Lasting Legacy
by DazzledByNorrington
Summary: I saw Jack Sparrow die by his own hand." New chapters added!
1. Part One

"I saw Jack Sparrow die by his own hand.

He was always notorious for running away from his problems, but never had we thought he could do something as rash as this. Now, Jack wasn't depressed. That's not the reason he did this. Jack, in fact, had always been terrified of death and the Abyss. Why do you think he was always searchin' for an elixir of life?

But like I said, he wasn't depressed. Jack loved the sea; it was his home, his family, his life. And whenever he got in trouble, he always escaped. Jack was a true pirate; it was in his blood whether he liked it or not. And, boy, did he love the treasure. 'Not all treasure is silver and gold', he used to say. Well, if that's right, then Jack loved treasure in every meaning of the word.

We had been having an extremely lucky streak the week before he died, crossing paths with two Royal Navy galleons shipping silk and tea to Boston. We knew it was going to Boston because the crates had it stamped on them. We sold the silk and drank the tea. Well, the crew drank the tea. Captain Jack didn't really like the tea, so he kept to his rum.

I've heard people say it was the rum what drove him crazier than usual. I strongly disagree. Jack had been a rum drinker since he was old enough to walk; by this time, I doubt if it even had an effect on him by now. He probably liked it for the taste, knowing Jack. But Jack only started having odd mood swings after the tea was gone. After the tea was gone Jack was not allowed to drink a lot of rum (as the rest of the crew wanted their share and Jack did not want another mutiny).

But the tea was gone in three days, leaving four until he died. Jack became angrier than usual, his short temper exploding at the slightest offense. More than once I tried to help him, but all that got me was a few lashes and an extra load of work to do.

Upon entering his cabin, one would've seen journal entries upon journal entries scattered across the floor, ripped out of the log books. Almost as if he wanted all memory of him erased… A bloodstained dirk lay on his bed. Whose blood it was, no one knew. Rumor had it that the "dirk" was actually the broken sword used to stab the heart of Davy Jones. That had been Jack's real chance at immortality; it was so close, he could've had it! But instead he did something completely out of character and saved a friends' life instead. And Will Turner was most definitely Jack's friend. Will gave Jack a reason for entering the pirate world again; and Will had always seemed to get in trouble, causing him to enlist Jack's help. But now that Will was off on his own adventure, one Jack could not tag along on, Jack had nothing exciting to do.

Jack had also received word two weeks after the showdown with the Royal Navy that his father, Captain Teague, lost his life in a fire at Shipwreck Cove.

Some say he gave up on life after that. 'So he was a successful pirate now, he'll get caught eventually. What comes up must come down.' Jack never wanted to perish by someone else's hand. He did things his way, made his own decisions. He was a persistent little bugger, I'll tell you that.

A few refuse to believe he committed suicide. They say he was murdered, or it was an accident—a malfunction of his pistol. But I saw what really happened. I saw him write his goodbye letter, I saw him salute the crew, I saw him pull the trigger.

It was noontime on a clear Caribbean day. I had entered his cabin to ask for a new heading. The look he gave me partnered with the letter he was writing should've warned me about his intentions. But his voice was calm and his demeanor was as aloof as ever. "Why don't we head for…Africa?" It was an eccentric, Jack Sparrow-esque request and I thought nothing of it until later.

It was too late before I realized that heading towards Africa would mean that there would be no land near us to bury him in. It was just like Jack to want to be committed to the sea instead of the land.

We were a few hours into our new course when Jack finally came out of his cabin. He silently inspected the cargo, the ropes, the sails, the food supply, the crew. I was the helm this entire time, watching him. Cotton, who was beside me, was looking out to sea instead of at Jack. After Jack was done inspecting the ship, he made to go back to his cabin, but turned around and saluted us.

I didn't see the glint of the pistol until it was against his temple.

A few brave pirates call Jack a coward, a coward for going the way he did.

Jack was many things, but he wasn't a coward.

No, not a coward."


	2. Part Two

"James Norrington."

My voice booms across the open sea. A single white spirit swims straight to the Dutchman and floats alongside the stern.

"Sir?"

The word was forced, I could tell. His voice sounded watery and far away, like an underwater echo.

Norrington stood before me as he did when he was Commodore, save for the wig. With his fit figure (emphasized by the tightness of the uniform) and his brown hair (full and slightly waving due to an unfelt breeze) he looked extremely young. It occurs to me with a pang of guilt that this man couldn't have been older than 35 when he died.

"Do you wish to leave the Abyss and serve in my crew? You are not bound to this ship like you would have been in Davy Jones' reign. What say you, Commodore?"

He thought for a moment, and I don't blame him. Spending eternity under my orders would probably be the worst form of hell to him. Not to mention, it was my father what stabbed him in the first place, and it's my father who is first mate of this ship.

"I will serve, Captain Turner."

____________________________________________________

One of the little known duties of being ferrier of souls is to keep track of them. Jones had a special book which updates itself with the names of recently deceased people. It is up to I to decide their ultimate fate. In order to do that, I must check the book every chance I get. I sometimes carry it with me; it is not a large book.

Today I was surprised to see the name of a friend.

This friend had committed suicide, the worst crime a person could commit. Committing suicide also meant that said person could not return from the Abyss like Norrington did. I would have to catch him before he disappeared for good. I immediately ordered the crew to turn around and return to World's End.

"Jack Sparrow."

He did not materialize at first, causing me to think I was too late. But a ripple in the water soon appeared and started to head towards me.

And Jack, eccentric as ever, stood in front of me again.

A mix of pain and sadness radiated through my body. My good friend, one who has saved my life so many times, dead!

"Jack, what happened?"

He looked at me sadly and did not answer. I noticed his face looked grim and haunted. When he bowed his head again, I noticed h is right temple looked black; that was obviously where he shot himself. I couldn't help but wonder what could've pushed him over the edge. I also wondered why, out of all the forms he could have chosen, he kept this one.

"Jack, join my crew. You'll be a sailor for eternity; isn't that what you wanted? Jack, if you don't say yes, you can't come back from the Abyss."

At that he looked up, and what looked like fear shone through his eyes. It didn't matter that he had committed suicide, Jack had always been afraid of death. It was his fatal flaw.

But Jack apparently thought otherwise as he tried to hide his fear. "What's the point, if I'm not Captain?"

"Look, Jack, when I'm ready to die, you can take my place. Agreed?"

Jack looked at me with some of the swagger that was slowly returning to his translucent self. "And how long will that be? Surely you don't want to be young when Elizabeth is old?..."

"Jack. Get in the boat."

He stepped onto the deck and became solid again.

"Jack, you can choose any shape you want after you die. After Elizabeth lives a long and happy life, and dies a natural, peaceful death, then I'll be ready. Speaking of which, why did you choose this form? You look absolutely terrible."

He looks surprised. "Choose? You mean I don't have to look like this?"

"Yes. Just…think about how you want to look. You can look like anything you've ever looked like on Earth."

And suddenly Jack was transformed. He was cleaner, healthier, and he had his hat.

"Mr. Sparrow."

"Aye, Captain?"

"I'll have someone show you to your berth. Mr. Norrington!"

Norrington jumped from the rigging and thumped onto the deck next to me. "Aye, Captain Turner?"

I send them off and settle into my cabin. Another little known perk to being Captain of the Flying Dutchman is that if I close my eyes and concentrate, I can see exactly what a crew member is doing at that given time. So I concentrate on Norrington.

"Fancy meeting you here." Norrington keeps his calm demeanor, but stares at Jack from the corner of his eye.

"I could say the same to you. Have you not noticed that you're on a pirate ship, Commodore? Since when do you consider yourself a pirate?"

"I don't. But this is better than the Abyss. Trust me."

Jack scoffs at Norrington's naïveté. "Oh, I know, mate. The Locker, remember?"

Norrington gives Jack a confused look.

_He was still in the Royal Navy when we rescued you, Jack,_ I wanted to say.

"This is your bunk." Norrington points to a hammock in front of him.

"Where's yours?" Jack looks about the small room. Norrington points to a hammock on the far side of the room. Jack walks over to the one next to it and throws whoever's stuff that was originally on it onto the floor. He then dumps his own belongings onto the hammock, thereby claiming it his own. Norrington sighs, but doesn't say anything.

Jack pauses, looking at his belongings. Without looking up, he says "You're wondering why I did it."

It was a statement.

"Not just me." Norrington replies.

"Well, son, then you had better sit down. It's a long story."


	3. Part Three

"My life," he started, "was good. Too good. Someone once told me, 'the thing about being the last of something is that, soon enough, there won't be any of it left.' And it's true.

My father, well, he died in a fire. A fire. My father was the best pirate I knew. He could escape anything, or so I thought. Death can occur anywhere, Norrington. In the form of a mutinous crewmember or the form of a tiny bee. Life is disposable; you are disposable.

Now you don't know me very well, Norrington, but I'll tell you—I never wanted to be a pirate. I just wanted to escape that lifestyle. But, in escaping, I proved myself a worthy seaman…a worthy pirate. Sure, I liked the adventure and the fame (and the treasure). But I wanted a family, a normal life. A quiet life, savvy?

But I can never have that. Not after all I've been through. My name, my face, is too well known. I'd be arrested on the spot. We'd have to hide; we'd have to keep moving. And who am I to condemn my own family to that?

I was helpless, spiraling down into a dark depression. And I hated myself for it. I felt like I was drowning and couldn't cry out for help. Not from anyone. Not even Gibbs.

It had occurred to me that leaving the crew this way would devastate them. What would they do without me? If course, Gibbs would take over my duties as Captain, but Mr. Gibbs is more of a seaman, if you ask me. You should know, wasn't he in the Royal Navy?

I had to be sure my crew would be well supplied to get to port after I was gone. And when I saw that they were……I did it.

I'm not a bad man, Norrington. Not in the least. All those legends...

They say truth is hidden in lies, Norrington. Well, the truth is, I'm a coward."

I realize I had been holding my breath this entire time. But being undead and all, I don't think it matters much. "Did it hurt?"

Jack looks at me and chuckles. "Hurt? The last thing I remember is meeting Gibbs' gaze. I squeezed the trigger, and then…nothing. It was as if I had closed my eyes that very second. No pain. No bright flash. There was no white light at the end of the tunnel, and my life did not replay before my eyes. I woke up—or opened my eyes, if you will—and I was on one of those boats. It had seemed like only seconds had gone by. But no, no pain. Why?"

I remembered the cold firmness of the gun in my hand, my certainty. I remember the fear that jolted through me when I placed it on my right temple. "No reason. Just a question."

"And now to change the subject, let me ask you something, James Norrington. Why did you choose your Commodore form? You were a Commodore when I bested you, when you lost your dignity."

_Great, my turn to be put under investigation._

"Well, it's a touchy subject…" I start.

"Its Elizabeth, isn't it?"

Funny, how someone who barely knows me can figure my biggest weakness from one sentence.

"Yes. Elizabeth. She promised to marry me when I was Commodore—you were there, you should remember. I had everything I wanted. My job was perfect, my friends were loyal, my life was just one big high. I was flying; nothing, I thought, could possibly bring me down. Of course, then you came into the story, but that doesn't change the fact that my year as Commodore was the best of my life."

"And the, uh—" he motioned to his hair.

"The wig? Oh, that damned thing was itchy, and bloody hot."

And for the first time, we laughed together.


	4. Part Four

CAPTAINS LOG  
dated 6.02.86

June 2nd was a solemn day.

Our beloved Captain Sparrow was committed to the sea at dusk, his favorite time of day. Invited were the previous crew of the Pearl, Captain Elizabeth Turner and her crew, and any surviving Pirate Lords. A total of fifty-five were in attendance.

Masters Ragetti and Pintel took the duty of sewing him in. I, Joshamee Gibbs, then took part in assisting them commit Jack to the Atlantic.

I am sorry to report that following Jack's death we have lost half our crew at the port of St. John's. The other half are expected to leave at our next port, Tortuga. Recruiting new crew members will take place there.

Under my orders, no crewmember has swabbed the area of deck where Captain Sparrow died. He was a part of this ship, and this ship was a part of him--and so it shall be until they meet again at the ocean's bottom. I realize that it is morbid that they should be united in this way, but that area of deck shall serve as a memorial to the great memory Jack leaves behind.


	5. Part Five

That sadness is washing over me again.  
_Jack is dead._  
It just repeats, over and over and over and over....  
_Jack is dead._  
It's not as mocking, not as biting, but still as heart-wrenching.  
_Jack is dead._  
He had a kind soul, a charming smile, a bright sense of humor. A good man.  
_A dead man._  
I'm alive because of him!  
Will's alive because of him!  
_Will..._  
Did he stop Jack from entering the Abyss?  
Is Jack a crewmember now?  
_Captain__ Jack Sparrow._  
Stubborn as ever, I bet. He would never agree to being demoted.  
_A captain goes down with his ship!_  
God, poor Gibbs...his whole crew abandoning him...he must be a wreck.  
_Jack was a wreck._  
Who, what, pushed him over the edge? Why? Could I have helped him?  
_It's all __your__ fault._  
I killed him before...I killed him again.


	6. Part Six

"Don't think I don't hear your crew talking about me! They've got it wrong, all wrong."  
_I could never tolerate rumors._  
Will looks up from his book. "Why don't you just tell them, then?"  
_Oh, how naive, William. Do you think I'm __proud__ of what I did? Do you think I __want__ them to know the suffering I went through?_  
"Just tell them it was an accident and leave it at that. Savvy?"  
He sighs--_better not complain, Turner, I'm losing my patience!_--but does not reply.  
_Good, he agreed._  
I get up to leave. With my back to him, he says "Jack." I freeze. "You don't have to be ashamed."  
I leave.

**______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**Should I continue or wrap it up in the next chapter?**

* * *


End file.
